


Girl Talk

by Traviosita9124



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Girls' Night, drunken girl talk, female bonding, hints of SkyeWard and FitzSimmons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 19:06:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4149420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traviosita9124/pseuds/Traviosita9124
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A semi-trashy movie, some beer, and some female bonding all adds up for a rather unusual safe word.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Girl Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Written during S1, before Ward took a 180 and when I could still stomach SkyeWard. Just a short little drabble about Jemma and Skye bonding.

The beer made her feel loose and weightless, despite the solid heat of Simmons against her shoulder.

 

It had started as a girls’ night with popcorn and beer and far too many chick flicks. They were midway through Magic Mike, slumped together and giggling, when the conversation took an unexpected turn.

 

“Christ, they’re gorgeous,” the scientist practically moaned at the screen before tilting her bottle of Two Hearted Ale to her lips for another sip.

 

Skye sighed in agreement, refusing to tear her gaze away from Matt Bomer doing his Ken doll strip tease. “It’s just a shame that he’s a happily married man. And, you know, that breasts hold no interest for him at all.”

 

Skye cut her eyes toward Simmons and saw her friend grin from ear to ear. Encouraged by her look, Skye pressed further. Her puckish side was coming out, and she was more than willing to engage with it.

 

“It’s also a shame that no man actually looks like that.”

 

At that Simmons scrunched her nose, shook her head, and turned to look at her directly.

 

“No. No grown man should be quite that smooth, even though he is a _fine_ specimen.”

 

Skye turned look directly at the other woman, her shock clearly written across her face.

 

“How is it that you don’t find that entirely attractive?!” She gesticulated wildly, nearly upsetting her bottle of beer as she did so. “Dark hair, beautiful blue eyes, and well defined muscles that are easy to touch thanks to the miracle of manscaping.”

 

“Careful, Skye,” Simmons warned as she settled her beer bottle more firmly in her hand. “And he is attractive, don’t get me wrong, but… I dunno. I just prefer a man that takes a little less cosmetic maintenance, is all.”

 

Simmons turns back to the movie before she can see the wicked gleam in Skye’s eye and the mischievous smile that comes across her face. Skye waits for her friend to move to take another pull on her bottle before nonchalantly saying, “So, you’d want A.C. then.”

 

Simmons’ reaction is exactly what Skye had hoped for: the woman lurched forward as she snorted in surprised laughter, her free hand barely make it to cover her mouth and prevent her drink from trickling out. The look she receives in incredulous, yet amused.

 

“Why in the hell would you ever give me that image to ponder?”

 

“Simmons, you said you wanted a low-maintenance man. A.C. is about as low maintenance as it gets. The man has likely never set foot in a salon, much less gone in to ask for a wax.”

 

Simmons shook her head, caramel tresses obscuring her face, as she pushed herself off the sofa and made her way to the bar for new bottle of ale.

 

“Not exactly what I meant,” she murmured with a grin as she set down her empty bottle and retrieved a new one. “So that means you’d want Ward, right?” She popped the top off her new bottle and turned to face her friend. Simmons leaned against the bar as she waited for her friend’s answer. “I mean, I’ve seen him shirtless. Not a single hair on him. Nothing to get in the way of your exploring.” She gave Skye a cheeky grin as she waited for a response.

 

The tables had been turned, and Skye quickly broke eye contact. Suddenly, the wood grain of the coffee table was endlessly fascinating.

 

“Ihavenoideawhatyou’retalkingabout,” she spat out, chugging the rest of her beer in the hopes that the cool liquid would cool the sudden burning in her cheeks.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Simmons watched as the sudden blush spread across the hacker’s face.

 

While she knew the alcohol could be to blame, her instincts told her it was the mention of Ward and his incredibly smooth chest. Hell, it made her blush, and he wasn’t even really her type. She gave Skye a minute to compose herself before going back to sit next to her. The best course of action was to pretend that nothing had happened and finish the movie; at least the younger woman could somewhat save face that way.

 

“So, Goldilocks, what is your ideal bowl of porridge, if A.C. is too much and Ward not enough?”

 

Apparently Skye had other ideas of how to go about saving face. She slouched in her seat so her head could lean back against the sofa. This was going to lead to an awkward conversation, Simmons knew that well enough, but the fizz the alcohol left in her veins made her willing to engage.

 

“Well, I have to say, I like a bit of scruff. No mountain-man, hasn’t-shaved-in-a-fortnight situation, but a little stubble is good. You know, like when a man’s gotten so wrapped up in a project that he just forgets to shave for a bit. I feel that way about the chest, too. A smooth chest is just too much like an adolescent boy.” Satisfied that she’d made her case, Simmons turned back to the movie.

 

It took her a minute, but she did eventually notice Skye’s cat-that-got-the-cream grin. It was only then that she realized that she’d said too much. Skye knew exactly who she’d been thinking of, the mention of working on a project was a dead giveaway, and it was suddenly her most fervent wish to sink into the sofa cushions and disappear. She kept her stare resolutely forward, doing her best to focus on the five nearly-naked men thrusting their way across the screen.

 

Eventually, Skye took her gaze off her and faced forward again.

 

“You know,” she said with a forced casual air, “that should be our safeword. ‘Manscaping’ should totally be our safeword.”

 

Simmons jerked in surprise.

 

“What? What on earth would we ever need a safeword for?”

 

“You know, if there are people around that we can’t speak freely in front of, we work the safeword into the conversation so the other person knows what’s going on. Who would think twice about two women talking about manscaping? They would just assume we were gossiping about men.”

 

Simmons giggled, although the idea did make sense. “I think the alcohol’s made you a bit daft.”

 

The two women collapse into a fit of giggles together, sinking further into the sofa before finishing the movie.

 

But somehow, despite the alcohol, the concept stuck, and when she asks Simmons to repeat the safeword two months later, it pops out without her having to think twice.


End file.
